Thunder on the Plains Read online

That was great! Perkins shook my hand. “Good luck on your ride home, son,” he said.

  We, the Cheyenne buffalo rescuers, mounted our horses and rode to the buffalo stockade. There were fifty of the most wonderful creatures I had ever seen. Up close I could see they were large and powerful. Almost scary. A couple of them were pawing the ground and snorting loudly. One was banging his horns against the stockade fence.

  What had I gotten us into?

  Then Grandpa began singing his Buffalo Song. The beasts started to calm down. The stockade gate was opened. The buffalo moved out of the pen, following Grandpa as he sang. It was amazing! We moved in behind and around the small herd. We began the long trip back to the reservation.

  It was a slow but magical journey. With Grandpa singing in the lead, the herd followed him as readily as a herd of old dairy cows heading to the barn.

  On the second day of the trip, Grandpa guided his horse close to mine.

  “The oldest member of the herd asked me to thank you for this,” Grandpa said.

  “What?” I asked. “What did you say?”

  “These buffalo are grateful to be going home to be with their Cheyenne brothers,” he continued.

  “How do you know this?”

  “I speak Buffalo,” Grandpa replied. “My grandpa taught me. One day I’ll teach you.” He smiled and moved back over in front of the herd.

  The trip back took longer than we expected. The bison were walking very slowly. Finally, we made it back to Buffalo Gap about noon on Wednesday. There was wild excitement when the people saw us coming toward the edge of town.

  The Cheyenne people of Rocky Point recognized the importance of this day. They stopped what they were doing and stood in doorways and on porches to watch the sight. They were in awe as the beautiful beasts trotted majestically down their main street and into the tribe’s cattle pasture. Tears came to the eyes of many elders as they welcomed their four-legged brothers to their home.

  That evening, the tribal chairman held a huge feast to honor me and the other kids. Before dinner, I stood with the chairman in front of the guests.

  “Tonight we’re here to honor a young man who has shown courage, vision, and leadership,” Chairman Spotted Horse said. “I’m just glad he’s not old enough to run for tribal chairman. Otherwise, I might have a real fight on my hands come the next election,” he laughed.

  The chairman gave me a carved wooden buffalo as a gift from his office and the tribal council. Then he launched into a campaign speech for his re-election.

  After dinner, Robert, Grandpa, and I stood together outside in the front of the house, talking and watching the sunset.

  “I’m proud of both of you,” Robert said. “You’ve reminded a lot of our people what can be accomplished when you believe in something strongly enough.”

  Grandpa smiled.

  “But it was still a foolhardy thing to do, Dad,” he told Grandpa. “Your health’s not good. And somebody could’ve gotten hurt!”

  “But that’s why I had to go with them, son. I knew I couldn’t talk them out of it. So I thought it best to go with them in case there was trouble.” He winked at me. “Anyway, I’ve never felt better or stronger in my life,” he finished proudly.

  “We couldn’t have done it without you, Grandpa,” I admitted. “There’s no way we could’ve handled those buffalo alone.”

  “Frankly, I wasn’t sure we could really do it,” Grandpa confessed. “But I didn’t want to spoil it for the kids.”

  Just then a loud laugh rang out from inside the house. They looked inside to see the tribal chairman standing in the midst of a circle of people. He was spinning a tall tale.

  Robert shook his head. “Politicians. You can’t do anything with ’em, and you can’t do anything without ’em. Funny how the tribal chairman turned this into a political victory for himself,” he said.

  The three generations of men laughed and went back inside for dessert.

  Chapter 12

  Worthy of Being Cheyenne

  It was decided that a naming ceremony would be held for me in honor of my daring act. Labor Day weekend was chosen for the event. At this ceremony, a medicine man chosen by Grandpa would give me an Indian name. Several traditional families of the tribe came together to sponsor the event.

  When the time came, a circle of tipis was put up in the field next to the tribal community center. People from all over the reservation gathered there.

  My mother and stepfather came to Buffalo Gap too. They were both very proud of me. I was excited and a little nervous about the whole thing.

  The night before the ceremony, my extended family and I gathered in the center of the circle of tipis. Robert led us into the largest tipi.

  An elderly Indian man with a wrinkled face was waiting for us inside. He was seated on a blanket in the back of the tipi. In front of him was a smaller blanket with several objects spread out on it. We all sat down in front of him. Robert introduced the man to us.

  “This is Thomas Red Elk. He’s the most respected holy man of our tribe. We are asking him to perform this ceremony for our family.

  Red Elk nodded his head. Then Robert brought me to the front of the group.

  “This is Danny,” Robert said. “We are here to ask you to give him his Indian name.” Robert pulled a pouch of tobacco out of his pocket and handed it to Red Elk. This is the traditional way of asking a medicine man to do anything.

  “This is an honor for me,” the old man said. “I am happy to do this for your family. It is good to carry on our traditions in this way. Your ancestors will be pleased.” He put the tobacco down in front of him next to a beaded feather fan.

  “Tomorrow at noon we will come together here in the circle of lodges,” Red Elk said. “I’ll ask the Creator to bless this boy for what he did for the good of his people. Then I’ll ask for a blessing on our tribe.”

  He picked up a long leather pouch with fringes and beads and cradled it in the crook of his arm.

  “Then we will come back here to smoke this sacred pipe. Each of you can speak what’s in your mind and heart for the Creator to hear.”

  He put the pipe back down and picked up a small pouch. He untied the leather string, opened the pouch, and removed a pinch of its contents.

  “Then I’m gonna smoke Danny with this cedar and this sage and give him his Indian name. After that comes my favorite part of the ritual—the food!”

  He smiled a big grin. A few of his teeth were missing. “We’ll have a thanksgiving meal and feed all these people who have come to witness this blessing.”

  The holy man stood up and walked over to me.

  “Then we’ll go over to the powwow grounds. The drum will start and we’ll dance until midnight. How does this sound to you, Danny? Okay?”

  “Yes, okay, I guess,” I said. I was worried I wouldn’t know what I was supposed to do or when.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll tell you what to do, where to stand, and what to say. Everything will be fine. Just leave it to me.”

  I relaxed. Red Elk walked back to his blanket and sat down.

  “Now leave me. I must prepare for tomorrow’s activities. Go home and get a good night’s sleep.”

  He shooed us away with a gesture of his hand.

  The next morning, everyone at the Wind house was up early. Amanda and Grandma fixed a big breakfast that the family wolfed down in record time.

  When I got out of the shower, I wrapped a towel around myself and went into my room to get dressed. My stepdad was there waiting for me.

  “Danny, I just want you to know how proud I am of you,” he said. “You took a lot of risks this summer and learned a lot about your own strengths.”

  He handed me a sack. I opened it and found a pair of beaded moccasins, brand new.

  “Wow!” I said.

  “I thought you might want to wear them today at the ceremony.”

  I took them out of the bag and looked at them. “Thanks! These are actually very cool.” We were silent f
or an awkward moment.

  “Well, I guess you’d better get ready,” Bill said as he stood to leave.

  “I’m sorry I’ve been such a problem,” I said.

  “It’s okay,” Bill replied. “You’ve been through some hard stuff. I think things will be better now.” He smiled and left.

  I put on my new pair of blue jeans and slipped on the moccasins.

  Just then Aunt Amanda came in carrying something. “I made this for you to wear today at the ceremony,” she said. She held up a bright yellow shirt with red and green ribbons on it. “It’s a traditional man’s ribbon shirt.”

  “It’s awesome,” I told her.

  “I made one just like it for Robert to wear on our wedding day,” she added. “Here, let me help you put it on.” She slipped it on over my head. I looked at myself in the mirror.

  Then Mom stuck her head in the door.

  “You look very handsome, son,” she said and stepped into the room.

  “I’ve got something to round out your wardrobe for today.” She held up a multicolored yarn belt. “I made it for you in the car while we were driving here.”

  She threaded the belt through the belt loops on my jeans and tied it in front.

  “Now the look is complete,” she said. “When you’re all done, come into the kitchen and I’ll braid your hair.”

  All the attention made me blush.

  “Okay, everybody out,” I said. “A fella needs a little privacy when he’s dressing.” Amanda and Mom looked at each other and winked.

  “All right,” Mom said. “Come on, Amanda. Let’s give the man some space.”

  Later, the whole family gathered in the front yard so that Bill could take a group portrait. Everyone wore their best Indian clothes, except Bill. He stuck out like a sore thumb in his city clothes and bolo tie.

  Bill set a camera up on a tripod. Then he arranged the family in three rows for the three generations. He went back to the camera and set the timer. Then he ran back to join the family. Everyone smiled and the camera flashed.

  “There’s one for your family photo album,” Bill said to Mom.

  We left for the ceremony and arrived at the tipi camp just before noon. I couldn’t believe it. Hundreds of tribal people had gathered. I kind of got choked up for a minute. They were all there to see me.

  Adults were setting up their folding chairs on the outer rim of the circle. Children were running and playing around the outside of the tipis.

  On one side there were several chairs set up for invited guests. The tribal chairman was there, along with Park Ranger Perkins, a few tribal council members, and Martin Two Bulls.

  Uncle Robert led the family to the front of the medicine man’s tipi. We waited there for the ceremony to begin. I looked around the crowd and saw Ben and the other kids. Charlene was there too. She waved to me. I smiled and waved back.

  A few minutes past noon, Thomas Red Elk came out of his tipi. He was dressed in buckskin, moccasins, headdress, and a large beaded belt.

  He spoke to the crowd. “Today we are here to recognize and honor the deeds of one young man. He is a member of this nation and has brought honor to us. He will receive his Indian name, as is the way of our people.”

  Standing in front of Red Elk’s tipi, we went through all the steps the old man had described the night before. The crowd waited quietly. Then, when the ceremony was completed, the medicine man spoke to the crowd.

  “Daniel Nathan Wind came to us at the beginning of the summer as a confused boy. He didn’t know himself or his people. Today I present to you a young man who has proven himself worthy of being called a Cheyenne and all that it means. I have given him a very old name, one that has not been used among our people for generations. From this day forth he shall be known as Buffalo Bringer.”

  The crowd applauded loud and long. Shouts of “Aho” could be heard. Grandpa had told me this means they approve of what’s happening.

  The medicine man took me to the center of the circle and told me to say something. I looked around at the large crowd. I’d never been the center of attention like this. I spotted Charlene and my friends again.

  “I can’t stand here alone and take all the credit for bringing the buffalo back. The truth is, I wouldn’t have been able to do any of it without a whole circle of family and friends doing their part, too. So I want my family and my friends to come up here with me.”

  They all gathered around me. Charlene moved up next to me and clasped my hand. She had a big silly grin on her face. I blushed again. Then I took a deep breath and let it out.

  “I also realized that being Cheyenne means that I am connected to the earth,” I continued. “I’m connected to my animal brothers and to all of you. None of us is ever alone. I say thank you to all my relations.” The audience applauded again.

  “Hoka!” Thomas Red Elk shouted. “Now let’s eat!”

  The old man led the way toward the community center. There a feast of Native American foods had been prepared and laid out. I stood with Charlene as the rest of my family headed for the food.

  “I’ll catch up to you in a minute,” I told Mom. I took a deep breath and let it out.

  “Charlene, you’re a nice girl. And you’re pretty and all.” What was I going to say next?

  “But I have to go back to L.A. soon. I’m not ready for a girlfriend or anything yet.”

  She frowned and turned away. “I thought you liked me,” she said.

  “I do. Believe me, I do. But can we just be friends for now? I promise I’ll write and tell you what I’m doing. And you can write and tell me what’s going on here on the rez.”

  She thought about it for a minute, and then turned back to me.

  “Okay,” she said with a smile. Everything was suddenly all right.

  “But just you wait two or three years, Daniel Nathan Wind—I mean, Buffalo Bringer,” she said with a gleam in her eye. “Then we’ll see who wants to just be friends.”

  She laughed and we went to eat. I let out a big sigh of relief. Talking to a girl was much harder than driving a herd of buffalo across the plains.

  The powwow began in the middle of the afternoon. Grandma had made a Straight Dance outfit for me to wear. Grandpa, Robert, and I went into the men’s restroom and changed into our outfits. Amanda, Mom, and Grandma dressed in the ladies’ room.

  As Grandpa, Uncle, and I left the dressing room, Robert stopped me to straighten part of my outfit.

  “You look just right,” Robert said. He put his hand on my shoulder. “I know your father is watching you today from the spirit world. He’s proud of you. You’ve come a long way, nephew, but don’t stop now. Keep growing the way you’re growing. You’ll be a fine man one day, a Cheyenne man.” He patted me on the back. Then we walked toward the sound of the drum.

  When everyone in the family was ready, we entered the powwow arena together. The drum group, seated in the middle, began an honor song for the family. The arena director led me into the arena first. I circled the drum alone once. Then Grandpa and Uncle stepped in beside me, continuing around the circle.

  Then Mom and Bill fell in behind us. The rest of the family and my friends from summer survival camp joined in. Finally, others in the crowd joined the circling dancers. A large mass of people circled the drum as the singers pounded out the song. It echoed across the fields.

  At sunset, layers of blue, pink, and orange clouds gathered on the horizon. And while the singers sang and the dancers danced, a small circle of dust floated outside the circle.

  I looked closer at the floating dust. I thought I could see the wispy shapes of buffalo dancing around the outer edge of the circle.

  “Grandpa!” I shouted.

  “Yes, Danny, I see them. The buffalo spirits. They’ve come to honor you, too. I told you—they’re proud to be with us once more.”

  I looked again. Among the buffalo spirits there, I swore I saw my father’s spirit dancing with us.

  And he smiled.

  About the
Author

  Gary Robinson, a writer and filmmaker of Cherokee and Choctaw Indian descent, has spent more than twenty-five years working with American Indian communities to tell the historical and contemporary stories of Native people in all forms of media. His television work has aired on PBS, Turner Broadcasting, Ovation Network, and others. His nonfiction books, From Warriors to Soldiers and The Language of Victory, reveal little-known aspects of American Indian service in the U.S. military from the Revolutionary War to modern times. In addition to Thunder on the Plains, he has written another novel, Tribal Journey, and two children’s books that share aspects of Native American culture through popular holiday themes: Native American Night Before Christmas and Native American Twelve Days of Christmas. He lives in rural central California.

  7th Generation publications celebrate the stories and achievements of Native people in North America through fiction and biography.

  For more information, visit:

  nativevoicesbooks.com

  Tribal Journey

  Gary Robinson

  978-1-939053-01-5

  $9.95

  A young Native teen is forced to deal with becoming partially paralyzed as the result of a car accident caused when both drivers were texting. Jason’s lucky to be alive—but life in a wheelchair seems too much to bear. Even when he was protecting his mom and siblings from his drunken father, or escaping from home to be with his friends, he never imagined something like this could happen to him.

  Now Jason sees himself only as a kid who will always be paralyzed. But when he becomes part of the Raven Canoe Family and learns to “pull” a canoe, his outlook on life begins to change. After completing a two-week tribal canoe journey with his Duwamish tribal members, Jason is proud to be a Coast Salish Indian. From the hardships and camaraderie of the journey, he gains a new sense of courage and determination to someday swim and walk again.

  Available from your local bookstore or you can buy them directly from:

  Book Publishing Company • P.O. Box 99 • Summertown, TN 38483 1-800-695-2241